


meireki

by Elisye



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Gen, midnight bullshit through AUs more like no one asked but still, the rest of the cast makes boringly brief cameos or repetitive mentions lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 12:06:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8161538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisye/pseuds/Elisye
Summary: Tokyo has always been something of a lost cause.





	

You don't remember asking for this, nor saying anything.

But this is the miraculous nature of life, and you can only mutely nod your head, accepting the paperwork and the ribbons and the flowing ink in your hand, scribbling your signature absent-mindedly towards the end.

.

.

_Uphold the light, and protect the gifted domain:_

_X: 100211.12 | Y: 450.15 | T: 11011112007:128:D6759_

_[Shibuya Ward, Tokyo - Japan, Central Earth]_

.

.

.

The coffee shop is so quaint, so abandoned.

You don't like it without the lights on, so you flip the switches - all of them that you can remember, at least - and listen to your steps echo against the marble tiling.

Where did Sanae keep the radio?

.

.

You don't open up shop, because this isn't _your_ cafe, though you do make sure to tape a little notice to the door about the owner's absence in case anyone walks by.

People love their coffee in the modern world, as the barista liked to remark - and true to his words, hauntingly so, you see a boy with the funniest spikes of orange hair the very next day.

You hesitate, and don't all the same. Placid as ever, you unlock the entrance just as the boy turns and slowly begins to make his leave - his head spins back faster than lightning, almost, at the click of the lock, but the look of expectation falls flat to a confused disappointment at his luck.

"Did you need something, sir?"

"Uh, not exactly..." He fidgets with a bit of his hair. His face seems to be stuck as it is, in that expression. "I just wanted to know where Mr. H went to."

"Somewhere far away, on a business trip," you reply crisply. Your Japanese is perfect - but a bit rusty from disuse, and stiff from the feudal ages. The past threatens to waltz back in with bright red reminders. "I don't know when he will be back, but I am here to watch over his home in the meanwhile."

"...Sure." He gives you a once-over. "Who are you, though?"

Internally, you sigh. Names are like contracts - fussy, binding little things. Annoying things.

"You may call me Raimu, if you wish."

.

.

.

Waiting is a most difficult task, but a few centuries ago, you had excelled it with tremendous ability.

Many would believe that patience, in that regard, would be a most similar thing. And indeed, it is nearly the same - save for the fact that it requires a thick skin for tolerance.

In other words - Kiryu Yoshiya is something of a brat.

It doesn't matter that Sanae once discussed his distressing, pitiful circumstances long ago. You can be quite sympathetic, but kindness is hard to muster when the child in question refuses to be cooperative in a disgustingly passive-aggressive manner.

Like a three year old screaming and grumbling for their missing toy - except, very quietly, in the case of Shibuya's supervisor.

The boy smiles charmingly as he mixes a cup of cream to his coffee, letting the foam swirl into a pastel cream. He looks almost pointedly down at the lack of anything on your side of the table. "My, you don't need to hold back around me. I value a strong bond between employee and boss, after all."

"Thank you for your consideration, Composer. But I'm fine."

"Really now." His smile widens. "Are you sure? I hear you can make a rather fine cup of tea, however."

You hands twitch on your lap. As much as you want to scowl, it would only signal defeat. "That is a fact of the past. And there, it must stay." The road outside catches your interest, all too randomly. "Much like your own little inadequacies, I believe?"

"...Touche." It's spoken with grace over irritation. You haven't won.

Things become thankfully quiet after that, nonetheless.

.

.

 .

You slip unseen throughout the city, collecting the colors and the fashions of a world you haven't seen in ages.

As is common for you, at times, you wish you had been born in this era, instead of one that already ended for you in a ground-shaking, golden blaze. It's why you kept your distance for so long, keeping in touch with old-fashioned letters and seasonal cards even through the entirety of the Meiji period.

(You've earned so much since then, but the immense possibilities of even more are always dazzling thoughts.)

.

.

"Well, if it isn't the Princess herself. What in the universe could bring you back to this humble little city now? Tiny bookshops? Graffiti on heritage sights? Starbucks? Or—"

"Knock it off, Kariya." With a smile that comes surprisingly easy, you give a little wave for greetings. "And can't I visit a friend, occasionally?"

"Considering what you're like - no."

"...Well, I tried."

Settling down on a nearby bench, the reaper hands you a lollipop - from the dark color and plain wrapping, you don't even need to guess that it's the same red bean flavor that he likes. How in the world can he still be addicted to this stuff? - and leans back to watch the clear skies. There's only the sound of the leaves rustling in the trees, and you tearing off the plastic.

If he has questions for you - about Sanae, about the Higher Plane, about your role and the long-gone past, he never once tries to mention them.

.

.

Sometimes, you wonder if you should learn how to properly brew coffee.

Instant packets of it will only do for so long. But messing with the machines in the cafe always got you into some trouble or the other with its weirdly protective owner, so in the end, you decide to leave them be.

It can wait for when he's finally back. Whenever that is.

.

.

You always knew you had distant relatives, but you never thought you'd encounter them face to face.

You meet the boy with the strange orange hair as you return to Wildkat after a routine round around the city. Together with a group of a few others, he partially blocks the entrance as he adds chit-chat to a long conversation.

"—So you're the girl Neku talked about!" Misaki Shiki gives you a bright but gentle smile, and you think, looking at the detail of the plush cat in her arms, that you might already like her. Maybe. "Raimu, was it? It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," you answer softly, looking to the other two - a tall fellow who looks much like a brute if it weren't for the big, open grin on his face, and...

A mirror. Almost.

Black eyes and black, long hair - a petite, dear-looking thing, just like how you used to be so long ago.

Your hands instantly clutch the bell pendant around your neck, holding onto it as tightly as possible as you swallow a memory that burns the back of your hand.

"You have the same necklace as me!" The girl remarks cheerfully, like a noisy birdsong in the early morning. You can't help but wonder why she couldn't have been you, instead - in so many other alternative worlds, that's the case. Why are you one of the anomalies?

"Where did you get it?" Her voice, pitched much higher than your own, breaks through your stream of thought. You try your damn hardest to seem nonchalant about it all. "My brother bought mine, but he said it was a tough find from just how super limited the stock was."

You look down at the bell, fingers gliding over its ridges. "...Sanae got it for me."

"Sanae... like, Mr. H?" Her brother scratches the back of his head. "You use his first name with him?"

Without realising it, you nod in agreement. "He's a close friend of mine."

"Seriously? But I thought you're his kid!"

In the midst of nearly three hundred and fifty years, you can't grace that with a response. (Kiryu, who had been most definitely eavesdropping on this conversation, at some point, doesn't fail to be amused about it for a few days straight.)

.

.

.

Shibuya is an utter mess, but at least it's improving.

More and more often, you catch yourself looking up at the night skies, a cup of coffee in your hands as you stand outside in the balcony. There aren't any stars to see, not like before, when paper lanterns and rustic torches were the only source of light for miles - with no bitterness, you have to marvel at the pace of time.

You don't count the days unless it's necessary, but it's already been a few months since you arrived to oversee Sanae's district. Not a word or story about his disappearance has followed, nor an explanation from your peers and superiors.

You are beginning to have your suspicions.

.

 .

"You heard about that long Game, Raimu?"

"Here and there." You make a face when Kariya offers you yet another sweet bean lollipop. He gets a small chuckle out of that, and happily takes it back for himself. "It seems to have been quite the session."

"Heh. 'Quite' is an understatement. Felt a bit more like a mystery novel and hell itself."

"Hell?"

"Well, it's not like the whole city was on fire for three days straight or anything - definitely not like our Game." His eyes lazily scan the rooftops of buildings and skyscrapers. "But I did get into a bad spot once in a while."

"How bad?" You frown, tilting your head in curiosity.

He hums thoughtfully, the lollipop stick bobbing up and down with the notes. "I'd say... pretty bad, honestly. Sanae was involved in it for sure, being Producer and all - but that's as far as I know."

His eyes never turn to meet yours. But you don't press for the hidden details, and soon walk off.

.

.

"—Just politics, dear."

This time, you don't hold back at least a grimace. "Please be serious, Composer."

"But I am." He keeps his eyes on his boring game of Snake, looking not in the least disappointed when he makes another ouroboros. "It's just one of the many consequences of my actions, entwined with the ideals of my Conductor and Producer. Or, I suppose - I should call him my former Producer now?"

"Do not think of me as his replacement." You sigh. "I have my own district to oversee, as it is."

"My apologies." He doesn't look apologetic at all.

The boy slides off his seat, flip phone shoved into a pocket as he strolls behind the counter, seemingly looking for something. You keep a patient eye on him as he idly slides a finger along the wood's edge, frowning as he finds a print of dust - you are not at all oblivious to the meaningful glance he shoots you. Cleaning is not your forte, only an ensemble of arts that are long beyond the present.

"Well, telling you the whole story _would_ be the efficient thing to do..." He smiles, and you know he's not going to be that rational. "But the Higher Plane might be displeased if I mention more than what you already know - after all, surely, there's a reason for them to withhold the circumstances of his disappearance from you."

"A reason that blatantly underestimates my interest in this case, it seems."

He giggles. You still haven't gotten used to it. "Sanae did like to mention he had a little friend so stubborn, it was impossible to stop her - I guess, that would be you?"

"Perhaps." ...If that description was quoted word for word, your old Game partner is in a lot of trouble for calling you 'little'.

.

.

.

The seasons pass, and you're back at the starting point.

Something isn't right, and now, you're certain - from the complete silence of your superiors, this tranquility is a mistake.

.

Summer burns painfully through your beanie, but you keep it on, and wander through the stars.

If you come under fire for it, yet again - that's fine.

All for a friend, in the end.

.

**Author's Note:**

> /tap dances to my stupid as fuck Producer!Rhyme AU


End file.
